


Just Relax

by bepreparedf0rhell



Category: Slipknot (Band)
Genre: Other, just soft fluff, that's really all there is to see here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:08:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22893028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bepreparedf0rhell/pseuds/bepreparedf0rhell
Summary: In which the reader's had a bad day.
Relationships: Jim Root/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 24





	Just Relax

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is supposed to be a bit of a companion/opposite to something else I've written where Jim's the one in A Mood, [Bad Day](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21840175). To be completely honest, I don't LOVE this one, but I still think it's cute so here it is anyway. Mature rating because there are some Suggestions of things but no actual smut.

“Fucking… fuck,” you grumble as you wrestle with the lock on your front door. You’ve been trying to remember to have a new key made for a while; yours never worked quite right, and right now you just don’t have the patience for it. 

“Jim!” you yell his name, hoping he’s somewhere he can hear you. “Jim, open the fucking door or I swear I’m going to just kick the goddamn thing down!” 

You hear shuffling and the lock clicks open, Jim appearing behind the door a moment later. He’s got a guitar in his hand and a pen behind his ear, and normally you’d apologize for interrupting him but in the moment you just huff and push past him into the house. 

You catch a glimpse of a smirk on his face but ignore it, throwing your bag on the floor and stomping into the bedroom to change. 

“You okay?” he asks, propping his guitar against the wall and taking steps toward you. You don’t respond with anything other than an annoyed grunt, turning and slamming your way into the closet. 

Before you have a chance to replace your dirty clothes with clean ones, Jim’s right behind you. He wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you close and resting his head in the crook of your neck, his long beard cascading over your shoulder. 

You know he’s bent at an odd angle, know he has to be uncomfortable, but the sensation is too nice for you to do anything about it right at the moment. He’s warm, soft, and his wavy hair’s tickling your ear. For a moment, it’s enough to make you forget the horrors of the day. 

“I’m glad you’re home,” he murmurs into your ear, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. 

“Don’t patronize me. You can’t sweet talk me out of my shitty mood,” you say, and you’re pretty sure both of you know you’re lying through your teeth. In reality, the man could sweet talk you out of just about anything if he tried hard enough. Hell, for most things he wouldn’t even really need to talk to get you out of the mood. All he’d have to do is flash those bright green eyes, bat those long lashes, and do that stupid fucking hair flip thing he does that makes your knees go weak.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asks, and you’re immediately shaking your head against him. 

“Okay. What do you want, then?”

You close your eyes, thinking about it. 

“I want to just sit in my dumb fucking mood for a while,” you say eventually, and he’s moving behind you, standing to his full height and coming around to your front. 

It’s only when you see his full frame directly in front of you, all six feet six inches of him, the long torso and the long legs and the long… _everything_ , that you feel a pang in the pit of your stomach and decide what you _actually_ need. 

Suddenly it strikes you that you’re mostly naked, having stripped out of your jeans and t-shirt, while he stands in front of you fully clothed. Deciding that just won’t do, you pull the glasses off of his face and set them to the side, making your way to his t-shirt. You can’t quite reach to pull it all the way off, but you get it as far as you can and he picks up at once to help yank it off the rest of the way. 

You run your hand up his stomach and chest, feeling the warmth radiating off of him. He’s always warm, always soft, always cozy. Just his presence is so goddamn comforting, and you’re already able to feel your mood improving just a little. 

“I thought you wanted to sit in your mood?” he questions quietly, and you roll your eyes. 

“I do. I just wanted you shirtless for my brooding,” you say, and he smiles in a way that makes your heart feel like it’s going to burst right out of your fucking chest. 

“Fair enough,” he says, nodding and reaching for your hand. You give it to him and he leads you across the room to the bed, motioning for you to sit. You do and he sits beside you, studying you like he’s trying to read your thoughts. 

“I’m sorry you had a bad day,” he says quietly, and you nod and close your eyes. You know he probably still wants to talk about it, but you absolutely don’t. You’d much rather just sit there with his gentle eyes on you.

“It’s stupid, fuck it,” you mumble, and he smirks, nodding. 

“Come here,” he says gently, and you lean into him, letting him wrap his long arms around you and pull you close. He feels so safe and secure that completely honestly your bad mood is already almost gone, but there’s no way in hell that you’re going to tell him that. You’re absolutely going to milk him being soft and sweet this way for everything it’s worth. 

“I just… work is so fucking…” you trail off, not really having an end for the sentence. As you’d expected he would, he shushes you. 

“It’s okay, it doesn’t matter now. Just relax,” he says, kissing your forehead. “Let me take care of you.”

You sigh heavily, perfectly willing to do exactly that. In a second, his lips are on your cheek, trailing down your jaw and to your neck. His beard tickles and you can’t help but flinch away from him slightly and immediately feel him smile into your skin, his grasp on you tightening. 

“I’m sorry, does that tickle?” he asks, and you smirk and shake your head.

“No, not at all,” you grumble, even though he’s doing it again and it’s taking every fiber of your being to keep yourself from being reduced to hysterical giggles. 

“Oh, no? Then I can just keep doing this, then?” he asks, nuzzling further into your neck. Finally, you break and let out an involuntary squeal, doing your best to pry his head off of you. 

“Okay! Okay, I give! You’re an idiot, but I give!” you tell him, and he smiles devilishly before setting back to work kissing every inch of your neck and chest. 

You throw your head back to give him a better angle and suddenly his hands are on you along with his lips. He’s rubbing your shoulders and trailing his nails down your arms, taking your hands in his. A glance up at him makes your stomach feel like butterflies are about to bust right out of it because his goddamn pretty eyes are so intently on you, watching your face to make sure you’re enjoying every little touch like he so clearly wants you to.

Before you even notice that he’s moving, his lips are on yours, hot and needy. He’s kissing you deeply, and you have no idea how the fuck he does it, but you really can almost _feel_ the love radiating off of him.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs into the kiss, and you can’t help but smile against him.

You can’t keep your own hands off of him a second longer, trailing up to run a hand through the soft waves atop his head, knotting your fingers into them and wrapping your other arm around his back, pulling your bare chests together so tightly you’re pretty sure the two of you are about just fuse together. 

Jim purrs in the back of his throat and you deepen the kiss, the twinge in the pit of your stomach feeling like it’s about to knock you out. 

“J-Jim,” you manage around his lips, not wanting to back away from him for a second but also knowing full well what you want now, what you need. 

“Mm?” he mumbles, and you’re pushing him backwards onto the bed, doing your absolute best to keep your lips connected with his while also undoing his pants and trying to force them off his hips. Thankfully, he’s got the insight to help and suddenly he’s naked underneath you, having pulled his underwear off of himself too. 

You can feel his dick hard underneath yourself, and in a second his hands are on your hips, doing everything he can to get your underwear off as well. Once he finally does, you absolutely can’t help but grind down into him forcefully. Both of you grit out loud moans, wide goofy smiles taking over your faces. 

“I love you,” he mumbles, his voice sounding like it took great effort just for him to get out the couple of words. 

“I love you too,” you assure him, leaning down to press your lips to his again.


End file.
